Page 17 of Sending Love Letters to Animals

“Trying to get one of them to help with the behind-the-scenes work is nearly impossible. Since you wrote that wonderful article about musicals, and I know it’s something you’re passionate about, I thought maybe you would help him?”

Ms. Tabatabai looked up at me imploringly. Obviously, the last thing I wanted to do was to help Mr. Melvin, the drama and choir teacher, organize the spring recital. However, my desire to avoid responsibility was overwhelmed by my desire to not disappoint one of my favorite teachers and advisors.

“I don’t have to perform, do I?” I asked quickly. “I can’t sing, dance, or act. Like, I love musicals and stuff, but I have no talent.”

“You have talent,” she said. “But maybe not with performing.”

I shrugged.

“So, that’s a ‘yes?’”

“If I don’t have to perform…yeah. I guess I can help him,” I said. “When, uh, are the meetings?”

“Excellent!” She beamed. “I’ll tell him this afternoon. As far as I know, you’re the only student who we’ve managed to get to help, so the two of you can decide which days are best to meet and plan the recital.”

I sighed.

“All right.”

She simply continued to beam up at me.

“I guess I’ll get to my next class?”

“Of course,” she said, shaking her head. “Get to class. I’ll tell Mr. Melvin I’ve found a helper for him.”

“Okay,” I said as I headed to the door.

The students in Ms. Tabatabai’s next class were starting to enter. Freshmen. Ugh.

“Ryan?” Ms. Tabatabai’s voice stopped me.

I turned to look at her questioningly.

“You might not be exceedingly enthusiastic, but you are a good boy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I smiled and waved her off.

Though I’d never admit it in a million years, that small, cheesy compliment actually helped me get through the rest of my school day.

Me: You sure?

Davud: It’s too much trouble.

Me: It’s really not. Come watch movies with us.

Davud: Maybe next time, man.

Me: All right. If you’re sure?

“What are you doing?” Jules asked.

She set a huge bowl of popcorn and two sodas onto the side table and flopped into the recliner on the other side of it. I hadn’t kicked my feet up yet, but that was Jules’ first order of business. With a push of a button, a whirring noise slowly lifted her feet into the air and leaned her back. Jules let out a satisfied groan and wiggled around in her chair, finding the comfiest position.

As soon as I had gotten to Jules’ house after dinner at home, we’d gone down to the family room in the basement. Jules’ family had a huge T.V. in the basement, along with a giant sectional sofa and two big movie theater style recliners. It was the best place to hang out—especially if you were planning to watch movies. As long as you didn’t mind looking at outdated wood paneling and musty ceiling beams, it was a great space. After Jules had run upstairs to make us popcorn and grab a couple of sodas, we were set for our horror movie night.

“Just checking if Davud wanted to watch the movies with us.”

“Tell his mom to drop him off,” Jules shrugged. “We can wait. The popcorn will keep us occupied.”